


Five More Minutes

by nikkiRA



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Making Out, Slight Canon Divergence, it's a 2/2 fic y'all know what that means
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26187469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: Akechi looks at him and then he says, “Why am I here, Kurusu?” Akira doesn’t answer, and Akechi takes a step towards him and gestures at himself. “In your bedroom? In pyjamas? Why am I here?”“Maybe I just don’t want to say goodbye yet,” Akira says.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 19
Kudos: 232





	Five More Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> look it's a 2/2 fic you all know the drill

He wakes up slowly, sunlight creeping in and moving up his body until it finally hits his face. He opens his eyes and immediately shuts them at the brightness, squinting and burying his face in the pillow. 

He kicks the body beside him, and he gets a low groan in response. “You left the blinds open,” he says. Akira lets out another groan, and Goro kicks him again. “Akira. The blinds.”

“Five more minutes,” Akira mumbles, cuddling into Goro’s side, and as much as he is tempted, with Akira’s face smushed up against his shoulder like that, he elbows him instead. 

“No,” he says. Akira grumbles the entire time as he slips out of bed and closes the blinds, diving back into bed and shoving his face in Goro’s chest. Goro huffs and wraps his arms around him. 

“You’re irritating,” Goro says. Akira shifts onto his side, pushing up on his elbow to grin down at Goro. 

“And yet you married me,” Akira says. “Isn’t that interesting.”

Goro scowls. “Nobody likes a smartass.”

“You do,” Akira shoots back. Goro can’t say anything, because he’s right. 

_ AKECHI WAKE UP _

He sits up. Akira rears back in alarm. “What?”

“Did you hear that?”

Akira reaches out and runs a hand up Goro’s back. “Hear what?”

Goro looks at him. “You didn’t hear that? That shouting?”

“There was no shouting,” Akira says slowly. Worried. This only serves to frustrate Goro more, because there  _ had  _ been shouting, he’d heard --

_ AKECHI COME ON _

“ _ That,”  _ Goro says. “How did you not hear that?”

“Goro,” Akira says, voice low and calm, as if Goro was having some sort of attack, or something, which is bullshit, because -- 

_ AKECHI WAKE UP _

He wakes up.

Ann, Makoto and Yusuke stand in front of him; Ann’s hands are on his shoulders, and Akechi tries to push her off but when he tries to raise his arms -- 

“What  _ is  _ this,” he hisses, staring down at the weird tentacle like cables that have featured so prominently in Maruki’s Palace, wrapped around his arms, with two attached to his head at the temples. He tries to pull away from them but they tighten around him, pulling him back into the alcove hidden deep in the wall. He hadn’t even noticed it, which was unlike him. He’d been distracted; Akira had -- 

Akira. Akechi remembers what he’d seen in the… dream? Vision? Hallucination? He blushes at the memory of Akira sleepy in the morning, the easy way they’d touched and the things Akira had said. He pulls harder at the cables trapping him, craning his head so he can see Ryuji, Futaba, Haru, and Morgana all shouting at Akira, who appears to be slumped back, cables glowing a soft blue as his head lolls back against the wall, still unconscious. Akechi wonders what he’s seeing. He doesn’t know if he wants Akira to have seen what he did, or if he desperately hopes he’s dreaming of something else. 

“Okay, you know what?” Ann says, before grabbing Yusuke’s sword off his waist and slicing the place where the cables disappear into the wall. They drop off of Akechi’s arms and his head, and he rubs at the sore spots. 

“Thank you,” he says, as Ann hands Yusuke back his sword, who can’t seem to decide if he’s impressed or annoyed, judging from the look on his face. 

“Uh, guys? Joker’s not waking up!” Ryuji calls, and they all leave Akechi to rush to their leader's side. Akechi stays back and looks at the contraption that had trapped him; the broken cables sag out of the wall, but other than the small opening it seems like just a normal alcove. What was the  _ point  _ of it?

“Senpai! Senpai, wake up!” He hears Sumire shout this, slightly hysterically, and he rolls his eyes, trying not to be too annoyed at her completely obvious crush (he didn’t really have a leg to stand on, there). Akechi heads over to where they’re all clustered around Akira, watching as Ryuji tries to pry the cables off of his arms. 

He can’t watch this anymore. He shoves Ryuji out of the way, ignoring his cry of protest, and leans in close to Akira so his lips are right next to his ear. He tries to ignore the way Akira smells and finds he can’t, but he manages, at least, to resist burying his nose in Akira’s neck and inhaling, which he deserves a goddamn medal for, frankly. 

He noses at the hair covering Akira’s hair. If he’s right, and Akira is dreaming the same thing he was, then hopefully Akechi talking here will translate to Goro talking in the dream. Quietly enough so that no one else can hear it, he says, “Akira, wake up.”

To his surprise, he does, and the way he smiles softly at Akechi when he sees him erases any doubt in his mind that Akira had been dreaming of the same thing he had been. His stomach flips uncomfortably. 

“Hi,” Akira says softly. Akechi pulls away from him and Akira seems to notice the others. He tries to move but is dragged back by the cables, stuck to him in the exact same way they had been attached to Akechi. 

“Let me,” Yusuke says, stepping forward with his sword out, and he slices through the cables with ease. Akira steps away from the alcove, rubbing at his arms, and as the others rush to check on him Akechi backtracks a few steps and grabs his helmet off the floor. Once it’s back on, and he has the slightest bit of privacy, he closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath, trying to forget about the way Akira had looked, shirtless and sleepy eyed and in bed beside Akechi. 

“Are you ready to get going?” A voice says behind him, and he turns around to see Akira standing with his hands in his pockets. The others are clustered around the door, giving them the worst illusion of privacy ever. 

“Of course,” Akechi says, aiming for a haughty tone. “I’m the only one who can truly keep up with you, you know.”

Akira smiles softly, and Akechi wants to wipe it off his stupid face. 

Akira looks like he might want to say something else, but Akechi sweeps past him before he gets a chance. “We’ll have to be more careful, now,” he says. “Clearly his Palace has tricks we weren’t aware of.”

“If you and Joker would stop running off ahead of us, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten stuck in the wall!” Ann says peevishly. Akechi turns to stare her down. 

“Perhaps you should all learn to keep up, then,” he says coolly. Ann turns to Akira, as if expecting backup, but Akira just shrugs, still looking like the picture of complete control. 

“Come on,” Akira says, swiftly taking his place at the front of the group again. Akechi takes another breath and follows. 

This, at least, will all be over soon. 

They cover a lot of ground, but they have only found two will seeds and more of Maruki’s Palace stretches before them when Akira takes a look at their dwindling supplies and calls it. This annoys Akechi, because he’s certain he and Akira could get most of this done in one go if it were just the two of them, but that, he thinks derisively, has never been how the Phantom Thieves worked. 

They all say their goodbyes; the Phantom Thieves all parted for the night as if they were embarking on great journeys, sure to nod or gesture or high five or fist bump Akira before they go, like useless baby birds clustering around their mother for food. It makes Akechi so sick that he turns to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, but Akira calls him back. 

“Akechi, hang on,” he says, and Akechi can’t think of a good reason to ignore him, so he turns back around and sighs, as if he’s terribly put upon. 

“If I miss the train you are paying for my cab fare,” he says. Akira does not rise to this bait. 

“What did you see?” He asks quietly. “When we were trapped. What did you see?”

_ Nobody likes a smartass,  _ he’d said, and Akira had answered back so easily,  _ you do.  _ He’s acutely aware of the fact that Morgana is in Akira’s bag, and even more aware of the fact that he would sooner die than admit to Akira Kurusu that the vision his mind had cooked up had been a life that they could share together. 

“I didn’t see anything,” he says smoothly. “Why? Did you see something?”

It is impossible to read Akira’s face. It is one of the things Akechi hates most about him. He shrugs with one shoulder. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, and Akechi thinks that’s the end of it, but then he says, casually, as if he’s simply making conversation, “What do you think the point of it was?”

Akechi shrugs. “Probably just trying to mock us,” he says. Akira tilts his head. 

“Doesn’t seem like something he’d do. I thought maybe he was using what he knows about us to project a reality we’d find enticing. Using what we want against us.” He smiles, then, sharp as the knife he wielded so effectively. Akechi feels like a pinned butterfly. “I guess it’s good you didn’t see anything, huh?”

Akechi hates him. He hates him, he hates him, he fucking -- 

“I’ll see you later,” Akira says, lifting a hand in goodbye before heading off. Akechi watches him go, trying to figure out why he felt so goddamn miserable. 

* * *

Akira watches the closed door without really seeing it, throwing his phone back and forth between his hands. Morgana is sitting on one of the tables, eyeing him warily. 

Akira looks at his phone and then makes a decision. 

“Morgana,” he says, eyes back on the door. “Will you go stay with Futaba tonight?”

Morgana’s tail flicks. “What are you planning to do?”

“Say goodbye,” is all he says. Morgana continues to look at him in concern, but eventually he lets out a sigh. 

“Fine,” he says. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

Akira smiles gratefully at him. He shoots Futaba a quick text and then opens the door a bit to let Morgana out; then he takes a seat at the booth in the back and makes the call. 

Akechi picks up on the third ring. “Now what could you possibly be calling me about?” He says, voice as silky as ever. Akira feels his heartbeat kick up, and he decides that there isn’t enough time left to beat around the bush. 

“Come back to LeBlanc,” he says. His bluntness must have surprised Akechi, who is silent for a moment. 

“Why would I do that?”

Akira runs his thumb over a crack in the booth. The answer to that question is obvious, and Akira doesn’t feel like mentioning it, because  _ you’re going to die tomorrow  _ leaves a bad taste in his mouth and he doesn’t want to think about it. So instead he just says, “Akechi. Come back to LeBlanc.” When Akechi doesn’t answer, he tries again. “You can’t have gotten far, just --”

The door to the cafe opens. Akira hangs up his phone. 

“You know this is only going to make this harder,” Akechi says, as if he hadn’t clearly been waiting around for Akira to call him. Akira stands up. 

“On you, or on me?”

“Well only one of us is going to be around to deal with the consequences.”

Akira walks over to him, reaching behind him to turn the lock on the door. “I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

He raises a hand to touch Akechi somehow, but his wrist is seized in a tight grip. “Akira,” Akechi says, low and threatening, and oh, that really shouldn’t be something that affects him so much. “If I suspect for one minute that this will impact your ability to make the right decision tomorrow --”

“Relax,” Akira says, only slightly bitterly. “I won’t hesitate.”

Akechi studies him with narrowed eyes, but whatever he sees must satisfy him because he releases Akira’s wrist and smiles at him, his real smile, sharp and lethal and exclusively Akira’s. “Have you given any thought to this? I don’t have any sleep clothes with me. And if you think I’m curling up on that awful couch then you’re not nearly as smart as everyone thinks.”

“You can wear my clothes to bed,” he says. “You can sleep there, too,” he says brazenly, enjoying the slight hitch in Akechi’s breath, the break in his carefully crafted composure. 

“I’m sure your cat will be thrilled,” he says. Akira smiles. 

“Morgana is with Futaba tonight,” he says simply. He meets Akechi’s eyes and refuses to look away. 

“Well,” Akechi says. “I guess that’s that, then.” And then he sweeps past Akira and starts heading upstairs. Akira watches his back for a moment before he heads upstairs, too, passing Akechi an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before he grabs a pair of pyjamas, too. Akira takes his own pyjamas and then mumbles something about making sure all the lights were turned off, running downstairs. He’s been to the bath house with Akechi before, but the smaller, more intimate setting of his bedroom makes him nervous, so he changes in the bathroom instead. 

When he gets back upstairs Akechi is standing in front of his shelves, studying the decorations, and when he notices Akira he says, “Do you really keep every insignificant trinket given to you?”

Akira looks at Akechi wearing his clothes and feels his mouth go dry. He heads over to the shelves and then says, “They were given to me by my friends. They’re not insignificant.”

Akechi makes a  _ deeply  _ displeased sound. “I hate you,” he says, lip curled up. It makes Akira feel a little warm inside. 

“I don’t think you do,” he says, sitting down in the chair at his desk. 

Akechi looks at him and then he says, “Why am I here, Kurusu?” Akira doesn’t answer, and Akechi takes a step towards him and gestures at himself. “In your bedroom? In pyjamas? Why am I  _ here?” _

“Maybe I just don’t want to say goodbye yet,” Akira says. Akechi glares at him, but Akira just continues to sit there, staring right back at him, until eventually Akechi turns away and drops into Akira’s bed. 

“I don’t have a phone charger,” he says to the ceiling. Akira gets up and turns off the lights, and then he stops. 

Akechi had laid down right against the wall. After a moment, Akira crosses the room and lies down in the spot beside him. 

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks, once it becomes clear Akechi isn’t going to kick him out. “That day in Maruki’s palace. What did you see?” He is pretty sure he knows -- Maruki had mentioned it earlier, had said  _ I even tried to show you the life you both could lead. Wouldn’t you be happier like that?  _ He’s been dreaming about it nearly every night, now, the way Akechi had looked, all grumpy and annoyed as he bitched about the blinds, the warmth of another body in his bed, the slim band around Akechi’s fourth finger. 

Akechi is quiet for so long that Akira figures he isn’t going to answer, but eventually he says, “You know what I saw.”

Excitement zips up Akira’s spine, but he needs more confirmation than that. “But what exactly --”

Lips crash down onto his; Akira moves before his brain even catches up, a hand going up to grab a handful of Akechi’s hair. He kisses Akira as if they’re fighting, as if he’s trying to prove a point, as if he’s trying to  _ win.  _ Akira is pretty sure he’s in love with him. 

Akechi shifts, leaning over Akira with one hand clenched in the front of his shirt, kissing and nipping and biting. It feels like kissing a teething puppy; Akira tilts his head and moves in closer, lunging in and sucking Akechi’s bottom lip into his mouth, biting down hard. Akechi hisses into his mouth, swinging a leg over Akira’s waist to straddle him. He can taste blood in his mouth, but he isn’t sure whose it is. 

“Akechi,” he mutters, when Akechi pulls back to take a breath. 

“Don’t,” he says. His voice is low, hips flushed against Akira, and in the dim light of the moon he can see a red flush across Akechi’s cheeks. “Don’t say anything. Every time you talk I get angry.”

Akira smirks, taking a firm hold of Akechi’s hips and flipping them over. Akechi makes an affronted noise but Akira attaches his lips to Akechi’s neck, biting down hard; Akechi tries and fails to swallow a moan, hips bucking up against Akira, who grins as he soothes over the spot with his tongue. One of Akechi’s hands tangles in Akira’s hair, and he keeps a tight grip on it as he yanks Akira’s head back up to kiss him again. He hikes his legs up high on Akira’s hips, nails digging into Akira’s scalp, pain mixed with pleasure, and it’s everything Akira had ever let himself want. 

And tomorrow it will all be gone. 

Something like a stone settles in his stomach, and he pulls away, resting his forehead against Akechi’s shoulder. “Akechi,” he says again, and Akechi uses his grip on Akira’s hair to pull his head up to look at him, one of his hands coming to grip Akira’s face hard. 

“ _ Don’t,”  _ he says again. “Do not ruin this, Kurusu, do  _ not --” _

Akira kisses him, but he does it slowly, this time, slow and gentle and soft, and Akechi’s hand drops from his face and a desperate sort of noise rips its way out of his throat, like a cornered animal. He doesn’t seem to know how to be kissed like this; Akira cages him in with his body, runs a hand down Akechi’s arm and grabs his wrist, sliding their fingers together. He slows Akechi down, until Akechi grips his fingers back, until his body relaxes and he seems to fit a little better against Akira. 

Akechi pulls away, taking a few deep breaths, hiding his face in his hand. Akira lies back down, gives him a moment, but he rests his forehead against Akechi’s shoulder, and eventually Akechi turns over so they’re face to face. Akira reaches a hand out and skims it underneath the shirt Akechi is wearing, fingers brushing over bare skin, and Akechi shivers and doesn’t stop him. 

Akechi opens his eyes and says, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to do something stupid.”

Akira says, “Why is it such a bad thing to want a world where you’re alive?”

“Akira,” Akechi starts, already sounding angry, so Akira interrupts. 

“I won’t take the deal,” he says bitterly. “You  _ know  _ I won’t. But stop acting like I have to be happy about it.”

“And you think you would be happy in a reality dictated and shaped by some fake therapist with a God complex --”

“Oh my God,” Akira says, leaning forward and kissing Akechi again. “I’m allowed to want you.”

Akechi laughs softly. “No one has ever wanted me before,” he says, and he tries to sound nonchalant about it, like he finds it funny more than anything, but he doesn’t quite make the mark. Akira kisses him again. 

“I do,” he says, a shade too desperate as he continues to crash his lips into Akechi’s.  _ More than anything,  _ he thinks,  _ don’t you see, I want you enough to reshape the world with it.  _

Akechi climbs on top of him again, and Akira’s hands slip farther up his shirt, spreading across his ribs, pushing on the knobs of his back. “I know, Akira,” he says. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Akira kisses back harder, because he knows. Each kiss is both a first and last.

* * *

He wakes up to a paw in the face. He opens his eyes to see Morgana sitting on the bed in front of his face; Akechi is curled up beside him, an arm slung across Akira’s waist. He can’t figure out what Morgana thinks about this, because it’s dark in the room and, more importantly, it’s really fucking hard to read cats expressions. 

“Boss is gonna be here soon,” Morgana whispers. “I wanted to tell you in case you don’t want to explain… whatever this is,” he says delicately. Akira nods and uses the arm that isn’t wrapped around Akechi to reach up and scratch Morgana behind the ears before the cat runs off again. 

Akira sweeps Akechi’s fringe out of the way, lets himself look in a way he never can when Akechi is awake. Explaining his presence to Sojiro wouldn’t be a problem, probably, but Akechi probably would want to go back home, to change clothes and wash up and just… 

Get ready to die. 

Akira should give him that time. He shakes Akechi lightly. 

“Hey,” he says. Akechi makes a soft grunting noise and buries deeper beneath the blankets. “Akechi.”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles, still mostly asleep. Akira feels his heart clench, a life he’ll never be able to have thrown in his face once more. 

He  _ could  _ have it. All he had to do was accept Maruki’s reality and he could have this, Akechi soft and sleepy and curled into him. He could wake up to this every day. 

But it wouldn’t be real -- and anyway, Akechi would never forgive him. The life Maruki had tempted him with was completely out of reach. 

“Akechi,” he says again, poking him in the side. “Leblanc opens soon. You can stay if you want, but…” He trails off as Akechi yawns and lifts his head. His hair is messy and he seems…  _ looser,  _ almost. He stretches, but then he puts his arm back around Akira’s waist. 

“No, I should go,” and his voice is low and a little croaky, like he’s still half asleep. It’s the best thing Akira has ever seen, and he can’t help but reach up to kiss him. 

Akechi kisses him back for a blissful moment before he chuckles and pushes Akira away. “Good to know that the fearless leader of the Phantom Thieves has morning breath,” he says. He moves to get up, but Akira grabs a hold of his shirt. He wants to say -- something. He wants to say  _ something,  _ but the only thought in his head right now is  _ don’t go,  _ and that wouldn’t help either of them. 

“Akechi,” he says, but whatever Akechi hears in his voice he doesn’t like, because his expression hardens, and just like that the soft, sleepy Akechi is gone. 

“Don’t,” Akechi warns. He gets out of bed immediately, and Akira curls into the warmth of the spot he left behind. Akechi gets dressed quickly, and by the time Akira turns to look at him he is looking as put together as anyone making a walk of shame reasonably could. Akechi’s expression softens the slightest bit when he looks at him and he says, “Go back to bed, Akira. You should get some more sleep. It will be a busy day.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” he says. Akechi opens his mouth but then must think better of it; he turns to leave, but then he stops. He turns around and crosses back to the bed in a few strides, leaning down and kissing Akira again. Another goodbye to add to the pile, but it’s still not enough. 

“Brush your teeth,” Akechi says when he pulls away. Akira laughs slightly; Akechi gives him another look before he sighs and flattens Akira’s hair down a bit. 

“You really do have ridiculous hair,” he says. 

“Would you like me better if I shaved it off?” Akira says, teasing, ignoring the spectre of death waiting in the corner. 

“I barely like you now,” Akechi says, and Akira snorts. 

“Liar,” he says. Akechi’s mouth curls, a smirk he barely tries to hide, and Akira looks his fill, burning the image into his brain. 

“I’ll see you later,” Akechi says. “I’ll lock up behind me.” Akira doesn’t think he’s imagining the reluctance in his voice, but he turns around and leaves anyway. He doesn’t look back. 

Akira lies back and covers his face with shaking hands. 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @felixfraldaddy


End file.
